


Reversal

by allintuta



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Pegging, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allintuta/pseuds/allintuta
Summary: He’s spent a century serving as an authority figure. Now, in his new-old body, G’raha finds he wants nothing more than to relinquish control for once.In which G’raha Tia gets pegged.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 11
Kudos: 79





	Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2021, here's pegging.
> 
> A big thank you to Blue for beta reading! 
> 
> Content warning for references to past homophobia.

“Y’shtola told me something interesting the other day.”

G’raha attempts to seem casual as he broaches the subject. He’s reclined against the headboard with a sheet loosely draped over his lap in a flimsy attempt at modesty, his voice still coarse and sluggish with post-orgasmic bliss. He fiddles with the fraying ends of A’lyhia’s comforter as he speaks, but the way his lips curl into an unmistakably devious smile undermines any plan he had to pass his motives off as innocent curiosity. 

A’lyhia’s eyes narrow in anticipation of what’s to come. Her fingers reflexively reach for a pillow as she says, “All terrible things, I’m certain.”

“Well….” G’raha’s ears twitch as he scrambles for a way to approach the topic diplomatically. “It was quite a long time ago, you know. We’ve all grown and changed for the better since then.”

“Spit it out, Raha,” A’lyhia grumbles. Sex has a way of pacifying her, leaving her in no position to put up a spirited fight. G’raha knows she loathes how quickly he picked up on this weakness of hers. “Go on, what humiliating story about me did she grace you with?”

G’raha chuckles. He gives her ear a placating rub, even as she petulantly flattens it against her head. 

“I thought it was quite adorable, personally,” he says. It’s an unsuccessful attempt at mitigating the sting that Y’shtola’s words can so potently deliver. “She recounted for me — in loving detail, I might add — the time that you asked her on a date.”

“Oh, gods.” A’lyhia lets out a guttural groan that she stifles with her pillow. Her voice is muffled by a mouthful of cotton and shame as she says, “So you know all about how she rejected me, then.”

“Well, yes,” G’raha concedes. He rolls onto his side so they’re level with each other, and gently pries the pillow away from her face, revealing flushed cheeks and pouting lips that hint as to why someone like Y’shtola had turned her down. “Truthfully, I wouldn’t have guessed that Y’shtola was your type.”

“She’s not, usually,” A’lyhia admits. She flops onto her back with a graceless grunt. “But she was the first woman I really got to know after I left home and— I mean, my tribe wasn’t exactly open to the idea of women being in relationships with each other.”

G’raha’s brow knits, and he reaches out to thread his fingers through hers, all traces of amusement gone from his countenance as he gives her hand a supportive squeeze. 

“I had no idea,” he murmurs. He can’t fault her for her reluctance to speak about such matters, not when her gaze goes momentarily vacant as an unsavory memory is dredged up. 

A’lyhia tries to dismiss his concern with a shrug. “Going to Limsa Lominsa gave me the chance to actually start embracing that part of myself. So… Yeah, I had something of a crush on her. It was hard not to.”

“I can’t really say I blame you,” G’raha says. “She’s an admirable woman.”

“And then she rejected me the same way she did one of the most appalling men I’ve had the misfortune of meeting.” A’lyhia manages a weak smile in spite of herself. “Did a bit of a number on my pride. But I got over it, eventually. Got back on my feet and put myself back out there.”

G’raha feels a sense of relief on her behalf, as if he’d been awaiting the conclusion of her sexuality saga with baited breath. “Have you had opportunities to be with women since then?”

“Mhm. Think the last woman I was with was... Dorgono.” A’lyhia recalls the tryst they’d shared with a mischievous-looking smile. “Feisty little thing, she was. A proud warrior of the Steppe who could kick my arse — did do just that, actually. But she was still willing to take my strap.”

A’lyhia puffs out her chest with pride, despite the aforementioned arse-kicking. G’raha can’t admit that he’s more turned on than put off by it.

“I….” He clears his throat, wincing at the way his voice catches on that single syllable. “I see. Did you, um, did you often take on a more...a dominant role— with women?”

He’s feverish as he sputters out the question without any of the eloquence he’d spent a century perfecting as the Exarch, but in his defense, the mental image she’s provided makes it difficult to keep his composure. 

She tilts her head towards him with a sly smirk. “And if I did?”

G’raha tucks his knees up against his chest. He suddenly feels naked beneath her gaze — more so than he already is. “Nothing, just...curious, that’s all.”

“Oho, I see. A perfectly innocent question,” A’lyhia says dryly. She turns onto her side so they’re facing each other once more, separated only by a sheet and the barrier he’s made with his legs. 

“Forgive me, it was rather inappropriate of me to ask such a thing.”

A’lyhia raises a brow. “You were inside me minutes ago and now you’re worried about propriety? I’d say it’s a little late for that.”

She’s not wrong, but that doesn’t stop his cheeks from being colored the shade of his forebearer’s blood, or the treacherous heat from pooling between his thighs. “It’s still a rather personal question, regardless.”

“Raha.” A’lyhia scoots closer and coaxes him to unfurl from his fetal position. “I don’t mind telling you about such things. So yes. Yes I did.”

The kiss she places between his disheveled bangs is deceivingly chaste, considering what she whispers in his ear afterwards.

“I still have it, you know. Perhaps I could be persuaded to give you a taste.”

His mouth goes drier than the arid hills of Amh Araeng. He swallows as his imagination, never loyal to him in moments of weakness such as this, takes the proposal she’s given him and runs with it. 

On his hands and knees, the weight of her against his back a constant reminder of who holds the reins; ones that he would gladly hand over, even without the promise of pleasure clouding his judgment. What filthy praise would she shower him with, he wonders, each silken obscenity punctuated by a thrust of her hips and tug on his tail?

G’raha belatedly realizes that said tail has begun thrashing against the covers with obvious interest. A’lyhia is merciful enough not to comment on it as she gets up and gives a languid stretch.

He studies her intently, eyes wandering from the taut muscles of her back, to the slight (nonexistent, she would claim) curve of her arse, down to where he can still see remnants of his spend on her inner thighs.

His cock stirs as he’s taken by a very male sense of pride at the thought, one that had been dormant in him until his reawakening in this new-old body.

She glances back over her shoulder at him, her lips shaping into a sinful smile. “Like what you see?”

“I do,” he replies, entirely too earnest given the matter at hand.

A’lyhia laughs as she makes her way over to the closet. She takes a moment to consider the frightening mess within it, her tail swaying like a metronome as it has a habit of doing when she’s lost in thought.

“It’s buried in here somewhere….”

She bends over and rummages through old pieces of armor and alchemical supplies and tinctures that he’s a little mortified she hasn’t properly stored. A moment later she produces a nondescript box and brings it back over to the bed.

G’raha forgoes commenting on the fact that it looks exactly like the sort of thing that a sex toy would be squirreled away inside. Instead, he watches quietly with a mixture of anticipation and arousal as she opens it up and produces a strap-on; one that a few fair maidens in Eorzea have apparently become intimately familiar with. 

“I call it ‘The Unsundered,’” A’lyhia states proudly.

G’raha makes an entirely undignified noise as he tries and fails to grapple with this information. “Y-You named it?”

“Yep.” A’lyhia picks up The Unsundered and begins cinching it on. “Since they took my cock in the Sundering.”

Ah yes. The woman that he had reached across the Rift for. G’raha buries his face in his hands while she practically cackles with glee, and he knows he wouldn’t have her any other way.

“Help me with this, would you?” A’lyhia asks, gesturing at the buckle opposite the one she’s fiddling with.

He suddenly finds his dexterity wanting as he tries to maneuver the pin. His fingers quiver and fumble a few times before he manages to get the loop nice and snug on her. 

The sight that awaits him has his pulse quickening and a heat enkindling in his core: the woman he has been prepared to give life and limb to save, regarding him with a wolfish gaze as he tries — unsuccessfully — not to stare at the toy resting against her thighs.

It’s the color of obsidian, yet it still looks right at home cradled between her hips. 

G’raha knows he’s completely out of his element here, but that only adds to the thrill of it all. 

“Would you like to do this?” 

A’lyhia’s tone gentles, yet her hand still makes a suggestive display of running along her length. G’raha’s own cock, by now intimately familiar with her touch and her wicked wiles, twitches at the sight. 

“Yes,” G’raha says. He reaches out to give the tip of it a stroke with his thumb, feeling a little silly even as A’lyhia sits up tall from the attention. “Please, I want— that Is, I…. I would like you to….”

“Go on.”

“Take me,” G’raha murmurs. “Take me like you did those women.”

“With pleasure,” she says, and there’s something domineering about the way she slants her lips over his that has levin running straight between G’raha’s legs.

A’lyhia stops for a moment to pull open her nightstand drawer, and while one hand sifts through its contents, the other takes G’raha’s half-hard cock and begins stroking.

He leans back against the headboard as A’lyhia perches atop his thighs. Between her hand coaxing him to fullness and her mouth leaving a trail of nips and kisses along his neck, he can do nothing but brace his hands on her hips and surrender to her will. 

She suddenly pulls back with a frown as her rummaging through the nightstand proves unfruitful. “Weird. I thought for sure I had some….”

G’raha watches A’lyhia’s increasingly frenetic searching, his simmering arousal left by the wayside. “What are you looking for?”

“Oil,” A’lyhia says, regrettably removing herself from his lap. She pulls out the drawer and unceremoniously dumps its contents out onto the bed: tomestones, a half-empty well of ink with no accompanying quill, bundles of herbs, a horn that looks to have been claimed from her fight with Ifrit. Why she keeps such belongings by her bedside, G’raha doesn’t know, nor does he think he ever will. “We’re not getting creative with something like this.”

“Oh.” Well, he wasn’t going to argue with that.

“Damn.” She concedes defeat with a sigh. “I’ll have to ask around. Thancred probably has some.”

A’lyhia gets up as if to make her way out the door, ass bare and her false cock standing proudly at attention. G’raha scrambles to grab her — gently — by the tail and put a stop to such a plan.

“Lyhia, you can’t just—!”

“Hm?” She looks down, apparently just now processing her state of undress. “Oh. Right. Do you want to throw on some trousers and ask him yourself?” 

G’raha blanches, mortified by the very thought of bringing his bedroom habits to the attention of someone he admires; even someone with a propensity for sex. 

“I cannot begin to describe how much I would rather not approach Thancred about such matters.”

“Fair,” A’lyhia says. “You can’t always count on Thancred for discretion.”

She stands there for a moment, looking entirely serious even in her debauched state as she ponders this conundrum. Then, apparently struck by inspiration, she ducks down and peers beneath the bed.

“I think — Raha, can you reach that from your side?”

He leans over the opposite edge and gropes around beneath the bed frame. He shudders to think of what could be hiding beneath there, considering the state of A’lyhia’s closet and drawers. 

“Little to the left — mine, not yours. There!”

G’raha’s fingers close around something made of glass. He carefully extracts it and hoists himself back up onto the bed. A’lyhia is already there, having pushed aside the nightstand contents into a heap on the floor, and she extends an open palm to accept the vial.

“Knew it had to be around here somewhere,” A’lyhia says. She takes the vial carefully between two fingers and holds it up to the light. “Perfect. This’ll do just fine.”

“Have you….” G’raha clears his throat as he watches her begin to apply several drops of the oil to her fingers. “Have you considered tidying up your room at all? It would make your life easier.”

A’lyhia gives him a flat look. “I saw the Umbilicus, you know.”

“I see.” G’raha’s ears droop sheepishly. “I suppose we could both stand to be a little more organized.”

“You’re an adventurer now, Raha,” A’lyhia says. She sets the vial aside on the nightstand and rubs her slickened fingers together. “The world is your room. Now.” She gestures for him to lie down. “On your back. Knees up.”

When G’raha doesn’t immediately obey, entranced as he is by her ability to carry that commanding tone she uses in battle into the bedroom, she gives his tail a firm tug that has a shiver running up his spine.

“Back,” she says, her voice resonating deep in her chest in a way that has him scrambling to comply. “There we go. You’re a quick learner, Raha.”

He laughs weakly, finding that his breath has abandoned him at little more than a single demand. “These Archon marks aren’t just for show.”

A’lyhia snorts, temporarily breaking the domineering spell she’d been under. “Have I ever told you I love how much of a nerd you are?”

“It might have come up once or twice. I wouldn’t mind getting a reminder, though.”

“You’re a cheeky little bastard,” A’lyhia says. “I’m trying to top you here.”

Her laughter peters out and she attempts to school her expression into one of authority. It takes a few more giggles — prompted by G’raha’s appropriately cheeky smile — before she’s successful. 

“Knees up. Next time I won’t ask so nicely.”

G’raha gets into position, swayed to obedience by the shift in her tone. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good,” she purrs, slotting herself between his legs. His cock stands neglected between them, but she bypasses it for now in favor of trailing her fingers teasingly close to his arse. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

G’raha swallows. Would it be shameful to admit that he’d entertained the thought, yet never had the courage to try it, to venture beyond his usual means of bringing himself pleasure? “N-no.”

“Has anyone else ever touched you here?”

“No,” he replies, this time with more conviction. It isn’t a question of judgment — A’lyhia would never, he knows, her own experience aside — but rather that he takes a certain pride in knowing that only this woman, the one he has vowed to build a future with, will have the privilege of touching him in such a way. 

A’lyhia grins. “So I get to take your virtue yet again. You spoil me, Raha.”

He can feel the warmth of her hand just outside his entrance. He tenses in anticipation, just as he’d done that first night they’d spent together, but she’s quick to pick up on his nerves and try to soothe them.

“I’ll go slow, ok?” she murmurs. “If something doesn’t feel right, or you don’t like what I’m doing, tell me and I’ll stop right away.”

“Of course.” He seals that promise with a kiss, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the softness of her lips before she goes back to using them for means far less sweet. “I trust you.”

“Thank you.” She brushes his fringe out of his eyes and gives him a parting smile before putting back on her air of command. “Now do me a favor,” she teases the head of his cock with her thumb, “and show me how you _do_ touch yourself.”

G’raha holds back a whine and resists the urge to buck his hips when her hand is regrettably already gone. “You want me to…?”

A’lyhia bites the inside of his thigh; a warning or a promise, G’raha isn’t sure, but he knows she won’t ask him again. 

He takes himself in hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious as she watches him from between his legs. There’s an almost predatory hunger in her gaze that compels him, and he would hate to disappoint. 

A slow stroke to test the waters, followed by a firmer one that has him closing his eyes with a quiet gasp. A’lyhia, apparently pleased by his work, rubs her tongue soothingly over the bite she’d left.

He feels himself start to relax as he falls into a rhythm. It’s easy to forget he has an audience when the world seems to boil down to his hand and the arousal he’s coaxing out of himself with it. 

“Did you touch yourself at all?” A’lyhia asks suddenly. G’raha can feel her fingers once again skimming downwards, leaving trails of heat across his skin. “When you were on the First.”

“N— Sometimes.” He releases a breath with the confession, even as he anticipates A’lyhia’s assurance that it was nothing to be ashamed of. “The Tower helped suppress a lot of um, urges. But, regrettably, I am not immune to….”

“Being human,” A’lyhia interjects. “And what did you think about when you did it? Any of the fine men or women of the Crystarium catch your eye?”

“No,” G’raha is quick to say, and truthfully he cannot think of a single instance where he’d had a less than pure thought about any of those who looked up to him for leadership. His hand stills on his cock for a moment as he considers the people he had left behind. “Never.”

A’lyhia hums quietly. “Fair enough. Then what sort of things did you fantasize about?”

A lot of things he doesn’t care to repeat; not because they’re filthy — Thaliak knows A’lyhia of all people has a high tolerance for such things — but because there’s something distinctly lonely about spilling in his hand to thoughts of being held close and having his hair stroked by a lover.

It was the intimacy that he’d craved more than any physical gratification. 

“Nothing terribly— ah!” His free hand fists the sheets as A’lyhia tests him with a single finger. 

She pulls out before he can really grapple with the sensation. “Sorry! Are you ok?”

“Yes,” G’raha manages to say after an exhale. “Apologies, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

A’lyhia trails a few apologetic kisses along his thigh regardless of his assurances. “You just seemed a little tense. I thought talking would help you to relax. As a distraction, I mean.”

“I appreciate it,” he says, sitting up enough to offer her a smile. This isn’t the first time he’s seen her between his legs like this, but the sight never fails to make his heart beat an imperfect rhythm. “Please, don’t stop just yet.”

She presses her lips to the tip of his cock, but his hopes that she’ll take him in her mouth are quickly dashed. She pulls away after giving him nothing more than a glimpse of pleasure, and demands that he continue his half-hearted attempt at bringing himself to release.

“Keep going,” she orders in a manner that leaves him reluctant to defy her. His hand is back on his length, stroking with more fervor than previously, and A’lyhia rewards him with a purr. “Good. You’re obedient. I like that in a man.”

“Wh—?” G’raha pauses as he feels her gently prodding his entrance once more, only this time he’s more prepared for her to slip inside. “What else do you like in a man?”

A’lyhia is quiet for a moment as she mulls over his question. “I like men who are willing to let me take charge when I want to,” she says. “Who aren’t afraid of being vulnerable.”

She continues to finger him slowly as she leans over him, bringing her breasts against his bare skin. 

“I like a man who isn’t threatened by the idea of being fucked by a lady.”

G’raha attempts to capture her mouth in a kiss, but she leans back and splays her hand on his chest to keep him pinned down. 

He supposes the best way to express his devotion, then, would be to simply do as she says. He keeps their eyes locked as he gives his cock a squeeze, finding satisfaction in the way she shamelessly watches. 

Her own hand never lets up. He feels a second finger join the first, and though it’s a bit of a stretch the unpleasant feeling quickly fades with her careful attention. 

“What about you?” G’raha asks. He spreads a bead of fluid around with his thumb, recalling how she’s done the same with her tongue. His hand, regrettably, is a poor substitute for the warmth of her mouth. “Any fantasies of yours that you care to enlighten me about?”

“I seem to remember you giving a non-answer to that same question,” A’lyhia says dryly. “Entrusting you with such knowledge with nothing in exchange would put me at a disadvantage.”

G’raha laughs and allows himself to sink into the bed as he adjusts to the two fingers scissoring and stretching him. “You make it sound as if we’re at war.”

“We are.” A’lyhia looks up from between his legs with the sharp eyes of an apex predator preparing to pounce. “And I intend to win.”

She proves her point with a curl of her fingers that has him pumping his cock with renewed vigor. G’raha can already feel his peak starting to build, and wonders if he’ll reach it before she’s even fully inside him.

Will she be disappointed if he does?

“You’re doing so well.” Her praise is accompanied by a swipe of her tongue along his length, and he knows he won’t last long if she continues to dote upon him in such a wicked manner. “A third? Can you take that for me?”

He nods resolutely, knowing that she won’t push him to do anything he can’t handle.

“You’re so good for me,” she coos, surprisingly gentle with her words. There’s no urgency to her movements, just a steady press and drag of her fingers that, to his elation, only leaves him wanting more. “Will you be a good boy and take my cock? Let me hear you sing?”

G’raha can’t suppress a moan at the thought. His cock throbs, and he can do nothing but surrender to chasing the high that he’s barreling towards. 

“Yes,” he says, an oath and a prayer rolled into one. “Please, I-I need this.”

She withdraws. He whines at the loss, but he’s too lost in rapture to care about his dignity; and he’s thrilled by the thought of there being none left once she’s done with him.

“Stop touching yourself,” she says, and when he can’t will himself to stop the motion of his hand she pulls it away herself. She grabs the oil once more, this time pouring a generous amount onto G’raha’s open palm. “Ready me.”

He hesitates, recovering from the precipice that she’d cruelly wrenched him from. His orgasm still lingers in his core, a reminder of what he lost but can still regain. But the decision is not his to make, and there’s something exhilarating about not knowing whether his partner will grant him clemency. 

“Still with me?” A’lyhia quietly asks.

“Always,” G’raha assures her, and he takes her false cock in hand and begins applying the oil.

“The things I’d do to you if this were real….” 

A’lyhia strokes G’raha’s ears as he slickens the toy with oil. He’s always found the husk in her voice to be alluring in its own way; even more so now, as it breathes life into these filthy fantasies before his mind’s eye. 

“Tell me,” G’raha pleads.

“For the longest time, I knew nothing but your lips.” A’lyhia rubs her thumb along the one feature of his face that had not been obscured by shadow, yet had still crafted the same smoke and mirrors as the rest of his facade with silver-tongued deception. “And now that I look at them I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to shove my prick between them.”

His chest tightens at the thought of kneeling before her as he had done that night at Holminster Switch, only this time instead of words of adulation he would be offering her a different sort of reverence with his mouth. 

Would she thread his hair through her fingers and shower him praise, or take a fistful and hold him still as she released down his throat?

“On your hands and knees,” she orders, interrupting the fantasy. 

His cock is painfully hard, his arse disappointingly empty, and he knows that only she holds the key to bringing him release. He positions himself as she’s asked and awaits her judgment.

“You make a pretty sight like this,” A’lyhia muses. She trails her fingers down his spine, making him arch into her touch. 

He feels the prod of the toy and knows it’s only a matter of moments before she claims him.

“Please….” 

He can hear the way she smiles in almost sadistic pleasure. “Please what?”

G’raha grabs onto the sheet to brace himself. His ears flatten, his tail thrashes, and he knows she is perfectly capable of reading miqo’te body language and deciphering exactly what he needs when words fail him.

Yet she still insists on playing this game.

“Take me,” G’raha finally manages to say. The warmth of her behind him and what it promises to deliver coerces another plea out of him. “Make me yours.”

She drapes herself over him until her lips brush against his ear, bringing words of fealty that belong to him alone.

“You already are.”

She’s pressing in. 

G’raha sucks his lip between his teeth and bites back a cry for more, trusting her to set the pace.

A’lyhia gives a few shallow thrusts as she gradually fills him. “Good boy. I’m going to keep going, ok?”

He nods. A bead of sweat drips from his brow and his hands shake as they clutch at the sheets for purchase. This woman is going to ruin him, he knows, and he is more than willing to submit. 

Another rock of her hips, this time a little deeper; the next, deeper still. G’raha doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until she’s brought flush against him, and one last tap has him forcefully exhaling.

She massages his ears once more, giving him a moment to adjust. “You ok?”

G’raha takes a few deep breaths as he tries to form a coherent thought. “Yes.”

“Let me know when you’re ready for me to move,” A’lyhia says. She occupies herself with the freckles that form sunkissed constellations on his back, tracing lines between each spot, leaving gooseflesh in her wake. “Take your time, Raha.”

“I’m ready,” G’raha says. He lowers his head and closes his eyes, focusing on the fullness that’s just on this side of overwhelming, and the weight of her against his back.

For the first time since they started this, A’lyhia sounds unsure of herself. “Tell me if I get carried away.”

G’raha brushes her with his tail, offering assurance where he normally would with a hug or squeeze of his hand. “I trust you.”

She gives a tentative thrust. G’raha lets out a quiet moan, giving her all the encouragement she needs to continue.

A’lyhia starts slow, pulling out only an ilm or two before pushing back in. She grows bolder with each noise she evokes from him: a gasp, a sharp inhale, a curse that has her laughing and admonishing him for picking up on her bad habits. 

G’raha drops down to his forearms, pressing his cheek against the pillow. He tilts his hips up as he does so, allowing her to sink in deeper. 

“You’re so good for me,” A’lyhia praises him. She pulls out almost entirely, and gives a thrust that has G’raha biting down on the pillow. “Let me hear you, baby, let me hear you sing.”

And G’raha does. When she reaches around to grab his cock and stroke it in time with her movements, he cries out in rapture. It’s somehow too much and not enough. She’s inside and all around him, and surrender has never felt so sweet.

When she bites down between the junction of his neck and shoulder, he knows he’ll never question who he belongs to.

“Come on,” she pants in his ear, “cum for me, Raha.”

He lets out a strangled moan. Between her hand on his cock and the thrust of her hips, he feels like he’s on the verge of oblivion. “I-I can’t….”

“Yes, you can,” she growls, giving his arse a slap that arouses as much as it stings. “Come on.”

He wonders how completely undignified he must look. He wonders if he can bring himself to care. There’s a wet spot on the pillow; from tears or drool, he isn’t sure, but either way he knows that the woman he loves has completely wrecked him in a way he didn’t think was possible. 

“You’re doing so well, baby,” she murmurs. It’s an entreaty this time, not a demand, and he finds himself thrown by the sudden shift in her demeanor. “Let yourself go. You deserve that much. I’ve got you, love.”

It’s the tenderness in her voice, her touch, that finally sends him over the edge. His shout is muffled by the pillow as his release takes him, leaving his entire body a quivering mess in her arms. 

His own seed is splattered on his chest, his chin, but he’s never felt a greater sense of relief in his life. His legs give out on him, but she’s already there to catch him.

“I’ve got you,” A’lyhia says, carefully lowering him down onto the bed. 

G’raha groans as she slowly pulls out. A’lyhia offers him an apology and a kiss between the shoulder blades before collapsing next to him with a sigh.

A’lyhia stretches. The Unsundered still stands imposing and upright, like a monolith to the innocence he’d gladly let her claim. “Mm. That was good. Did you enjoy yourself?”

G’raha’s ‘yes’ is lost in the pillow, but the way his tail curls around hers speaks for him where words fail. 

It’s with no small amount of effort that he rolls onto his back. His body feels drained, not unlike how it had when he’d ventured too far from the Tower, but where that had left him feeling frail as a grim reminder of the borrowed time he was living on, now he feels at peace. 

When he opens his eyes, A’lyhia is no longer on the bed, but she’s back from the adjacent washroom before he can mourn her absence. She comes bearing a warm washcloth, and her hips are no longer sporting the harness that she’d so skillfully used to ruin him. 

“You look a little worse for wear,” she says with a weary smile; understandable, considering she’d just fucked the light of Hydaelyn out of him. “C’mere.”

She pulls him into her lap. He feels like a crushing deadweight, but she doesn’t complain, humming to herself as she wipes up his spend.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, running her fingers through his mess of hair. “I think I needed that.”

G’raha sinks down until his head is resting against the cradle of her legs. He purrs, low and content in his chest. “I should be thanking you.”

“We’ll call it a mutually beneficial arrangement, then.”

“Arrangement,” G’raha repeats. “Call me a sentimental old man but I prefer ‘act of love.’”

“So taking the strap is your love language, then,” A’lyhia snickers. “Good to know.”

He feels himself drifting off, but not before he gets in the last word.

“I’ll say it to you in as many ways as you would like. Now, and everyday into the future that we’ll write together.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in joining a nice and supportive community of writers, please check out [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


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